


Bad Idea

by magisterpavus



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-17
Updated: 2015-06-17
Packaged: 2018-04-04 18:37:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4148586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magisterpavus/pseuds/magisterpavus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Echo Lavellan is in denial about his feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Idea

**Author's Note:**

> it's pretty short and sweet. enjoy!

It’s stupid, really.

Really, really stupid. Because it’s nothing. Really, it isn’t; it’s just slight brushes of fingertips and whispered foreign words and strangely heated glances and a fluttering warmth in his chest whenever they’re in the same room as each other. 

But more than that, it’s a _bad idea_.

_That never stopped you before_ , an annoying little voice in his head tells him. Echo ignores it. Because it is, in fact, a monumentally bad idea, and he’s pretty sure they both know it. He hopes Dorian knows it. Or maybe he does know, and he just doesn’t care. That would be rather like him.

It’s just that…there are problems. Lots and lots of problems, and they make Echo’s head hurt whenever he tries to muddle over them for too long. There’s too much bad blood (literally) between Dorian’s people and his own, he tries to tell himself. It’s wrong. But try as he might, he can’t seem to take that to heart. When he looks at Dorian…he doesn’t see the cruel magisters his clan often told horror stories about. He isn’t…he isn’t afraid of him. Maybe he should be. Yes, he probably should be.

But then again, Echo never did learn to look before he leaped.

And fell. Fast.

*

It doesn’t happen the way he expected it would.

It’s after Echo’s third (and hopefully last) visit to Redcliffe, during which he had an unexpected and horrifyingly uncomfortable encounter with none other than Magister Halward Pavus himself. So maybe Echo said some things he shouldn’t have to an admittedly very powerful mage who could probably light him on fire with his mind. But he didn’t regret it. After he saw the expression on Dorian’s face, heard the crack in his voice and the gathering tears in his eyes – he wasn’t about to stand by idly and let them talk it out, or whatever Dorian’s father had come there to do. He didn’t trust Halward, not one bit. I only wanted what was best for you…yeah, right. Echo certainly wasn’t an expert in such matters, but he was fairly certain blood magic rituals were not the way to go to ensure one’s well-being. And so they left.

Something changed between them. A kind of tension…no, it was more than that. And Echo didn’t quite understand it until they returned to Skyhold, whereupon Dorian fled almost immediately to his quarters without a word (a rare occurrence indeed). Echo didn’t go after him. It really wasn’t the time.

The time, apparently, was later that evening, when Echo ventured up to the library to ask Leliana about the Chantry sister who wouldn’t stop babbling about electing the next Divine. He…didn’t quite make it, though. Dorian was in his usual corner, not sitting or reading but simply leaning against the windowsill, looking at the Frostbacks and the lands beyond with an inscrutable kind of longing.

Echo didn’t know why he did it, but he reached out, and Dorian turned towards him, just slightly. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but Echo just shook his head. It was clear Dorian, for once, didn’t want to talk about himself. So instead he just sighed, and they stood there together for a few moments before Dorian muttered, “Maker knows what you must think of me now, after that whole display.”

Echo just rolled his eyes. “I’m sure you already know exactly what I think of you, Dorian Pavus.”

Dorian blinked, startled, and Echo left before he could say another word, his heart pounding in his chest. It’s nothing, he told himself.

Nothing.

He delivered the news to Leliana, who was becoming rather too scary for Echo’s liking, and quickly backtracked to find Dorian again, or in the very least a good book. Instead, he found Dorian arguing with none other than that conniving little Mother Giselle. 

She was a good woman. Echo just didn’t particularly like her. At all. 

Dorian was saying something very interesting about his tongue when Echo interrupted. Mother Giselle turned pink. “Ah…Inquisitor.”

Echo raised an eyebrow. “What’s going on here?”

Dorian rubbed his temple. “It seems the revered mother is concerned about my ‘undue influence’ over you.”

Echo definitely did not blush. At all. Because that really could have been phrased better.

Mother Giselle shook her head. “Your Worship…you must understand how this looks.”

His eyebrow stayed raised. She continued, hesitantly. “This man is of Tevinter. His presence at your side, especially with you being an elf…the rumors alone…”

Echo’s eyes narrowed. “What are you insinuating, exactly?” 

Her own eyes widened. “I meant no disrespect, Inquisitor, only to ask after this man’s…intentions.”

“I believe you’ve done quite enough asking,” Echo said. Dorian had gone awfully tense and quiet next to him.

As Mother Giselle walked away, Dorian bit his lip and said, “However misplaced her concern may be, it’s not without cause. There are rumors, you know. About us.”

Echo gave himself three seconds to breathe before replying, “Oh?”

“Yes, oh,” Dorian muttered. 

“And?”

“And what?”

“What do you have to say about these rumors?”

Dorian paused. He looked…nervous, if such a thing wasn’t so ridiculous. “I think that rather depends,” he said.

“On what?” Echo realized, distantly, that they were very close. And Dorian was very warm.

“What you have to say.”

Echo meant to look into his eyes, but his gaze caught on Dorian’s lips instead and that was it – the nothing became something and they were kissing, Dorian caught and cornered up against the bookshelf with a surprised little gasp although Echo didn’t know how he hadn’t expected it, how he hadn’t known that the months of silent teasing torture had been leading up to this.

But it wasn’t…urgent, not like it maybe should have been. It wasn’t desperate, either; it was just oddly…chaste, although that word didn’t belong anywhere near Dorian Pavus, that was for sure. Dorian’s jaw was warm under his slender hand and somehow felt familiar. When they broke away, their foreheads stayed close, leaning against one another with half-lidded eyes, breathing softly. Then Dorian reached up, stroking the side of his face with an expression of soft wonder, an amused tilt to his lips.

“I agree,” he said seriously, and Echo tilted his head.

“What?”

He chuckled. “If that was what you have to say, then I agree wholeheartedly. Although, I think there’s an atlas digging into my spine, so I’d really appreciate relocating to somewhere more comfortable right about now.”

Echo ran a hand through his hair, stepping back and out of Dorian’s space. He was definitely blushing then. “Ah…right. Sorry. But, um…I actually...I promised Josephine I’d meet with her about some business in Val Royeaux, and she might have Leliana murder me if I’m late again.”

Dorian smirked. “Right. I suppose the relocation will have to wait, then?”

“Soon,” Echo promised him, silently cursing the fact that he had actual responsibilities. 

Dorian’s smirk just widened in reply.

*

As it turned out, soon was a whole week later after a war room meeting that, for the first time in days, ended early. In other words, Echo declared they needed to stop or he was going to start joining Sera in throwing things off the ramparts to relieve stress. Cullen hastily sent everyone on their way, and Echo didn’t even think – his feet just brought him to the library, and Dorian must have seen the purpose in his eyes when he looked up from his newest book, for he stood immediately, that stupid smirk back again. 

Echo was going to enjoy wiping it off his face.

“Your quarters, I presume?” Dorian asked, silky smooth as ever. Echo nodded, trying not to take the stairs two at a time, the heat of Dorian behind him driving him mad. Somehow, they managed to sneak through the main hall (although Varric definitely saw them, and Echo was definitely going to need to talk to him later) and close the door to Echo’s quarters behind them with a satisfying thud. 

The second kiss was anything but chaste. Dorian pressed him up against the door easily – for a mage he was irritatingly well-built, and as a rogue elf Echo really couldn’t hope to compete. So instead he surged up, kissing him back just as hard, legs tangling and growl forming in his throat, his hands anchoring themselves firmly in Dorian’s hair. Dorian hissed a little at that, and Echo just rolled his eyes, shoving him forward towards the direction of an actual bed – he wasn’t keen on the idea of plucking out splinters tonight.

Dorian got the message, breaking away reluctantly, their hands grasping frantically at each other as they walked until Dorian’s thighs hit the edge of the bed and sent them both sprawling on the green coverlet, kissing again as soon as they landed. Dorian huffed out a laugh when Echo accidentally elbowed him (hard) in the ribs, sliding a hand down the back of his breeches and squeezing. Echo hummed and rolled his hips down in reply. 

Dorian laughed again, more breathless than before. “You really have done this before, haven’t you?” he asked, a little disbelieving. 

Echo shrugged, squirming until his legs bracketed Dorian’s hips. “Of course I have. You’re not that special, Dorian,” he said, regretting it when something flickered in Dorian’s eyes – mostly indecipherable but unquestionably sad. Quickly, he changed the subject. “Wait, are you one of those people who thinks elves are prude or something?”

Dorian grinned. “Clearly, that’s a false assumption?”

Echo peered down at him, white hair hanging haphazardly in his face. “Well…frolicking through the Free Marches gets dull after a while. So some of us come up with our own….pastimes. Things happen.”

“How scandalous!” Dorian declared, sounding delighted by the idea. “And to think, everyone sees you as a pure prophet of Andraste.”

Echo wrinkled his nose with distaste. “Please don’t mention Andraste when you’re in bed with me. Please.” 

“Fair enough,” Dorian replied. “I think that’s enough talking, anyway.”

“Glad we’re on the same page,” Echo said before leaning down and sinking his teeth into Dorian’s neck. He tasted like sweat and spices, something sweet and sharp. It made his pulse jump.

“Kaffas,” Dorian hissed, clutching at his waist. “You know, that’s rather high up, I’m not sure my shirt collars will hide it –”

“Then don’t,” Echo whispered against the darkening bruise, kissing it. “Besides, I thought we were done with talking?”

“Yes,” Dorian whispered back, and when Echo pulled away his pupils were blown in the dim light, lips parted and cheeks flushed. Echo had to kiss him again, and as he did he felt broad palms pushing his tunic off his shoulders, fingers unlacing his breeches until he could kick them away, cursing at the rough slide of bare skin against leather. He’d foregone smallclothes and was currently quite thankful for it.

Hands shaking just a bit, he struggled with the unnecessarily intricate straps of Dorian’s own attire, finally managing to undo the trickiest buckle just as Dorian shoved down his smallclothes, wrapping an arm around Echo and dragging them both up ‘til he was sitting back against the headboard with Echo in his lap. “Better?” he murmured, eyes and hands running over the elf’s body like he couldn’t get enough. Echo could relate, because _fenedhis,_ Dorian was beautiful. Echo’s hands on his chest looked so small and pale against the dark umber of his skin, and he marveled at how gently Dorian held him even as the muscles rippling beneath the surface spoke of a much greater strength. He swallowed, _wanting_.

Dorian was trailing kisses across his shoulder, that silly mustache tickling as he went. “You have freckles everywhere,” he remarked. “It’s quite adorable.”

Echo sighed, shifting atop him, immediately conscious of their arousal. “Too much time in the sun, I suppose.”

“Just enough,” Dorian countered, watching him carefully as he snuck a hand between them, stroking firmly. Echo gasped, rocking hard against him. “Is this…”

“I’d leave if you stopped,” he promised, his own eyes darkening and his thighs tightening reflexively. “Although I did have something else in mind.” Dorian gave him a very intrigued expression, so Echo clambered off of him, slid down, and promptly took his cock into his mouth. Dorian arched, shocked, moans spilling from his lips straightaway. Echo wanted to giggle, because he _knew_ Dorian would be loud. He never shut up normally, so it wasn’t much of a surprise. Humming again, he took in more between his lips, breathing in deeply and sucking contentedly, bobbing his head until Dorian groaned again, a hand flung over his eyes, the other resting carefully on the back of Echo’s neck. When Echo pulled off for air and pressed an almost dainty kiss to the tip, Dorian cursed and tangled his fingers in his hair, tugging impatiently.

“Sorry,” he managed, and Echo raised an eyebrow at him, licking his lips. 

“Don’t be,” he replied. “It’s nice.” Leaving Dorian to figure that out on his own, he plunged right back on, twisting his hand around the base in rhythm with his tongue and closing his eyes when Dorian’s grip tightened, pulling his hair just hard enough to make him feel it, guiding his head. He nodded in approval, stroking Dorian’s inner thighs with his free hand and letting himself get lost in the sensation – warm, heavy flesh, soft hands in his hair and overwhelming desire rushing through his body. He’d never…never quite felt like this about anybody. Dorian’s thighs trembled under his touch and he hollowed his cheeks expectantly…only for Dorian to push him away, panting.

Echo tilted his head, questioning. Dorian looked like a mess, and he probably looked even worse (or better) if the expression Dorian was making was any indication.

“Oh, Maker,” Dorian breathed, “please come here.” Echo obliged, only for Dorian to kiss him deeply, dragging his fingertips through Echo’s hair and across his jaw reverently. Echo responded with enthusiasm, unconsciously rutting against Dorian’s taut stomach, the space between them slick and hot. 

“There’s…oil in the bathroom,” Echo mumbled in between kisses. Dorian groaned again.

“Are you –”

“Certain? Very.”

“Well, who am I deny you that?” Echo rolled off of him and Dorian got up, padding across the room. Echo tried (and failed) not to stare at his ass as he left. It would be pretty impossible not to, he thought, and he felt a little sad when Dorian and his fantastic ass disappeared into the bathroom. In an attempt to calm his nerves, he sighed and lay back down, looking up at the ceiling and counting the whorls in the wood. It didn’t help much. By the time Dorian returned, he’d gotten to twelve.

Dorian uncapped the bottle, noticing Echo’s sudden passiveness. “Making me do all the work now?” he teased, and Echo snorted, forehead creasing when Dorian dipped his finger into the bottle and then, slowly, inside of him, curling carefully. Echo made a small sound of encouragement and he added another, the pressure building until Echo’s legs were the ones that trembled. By the third finger he was pressing back against Dorian’s hand urgently, his cock hard and leaking just like Dorian’s, which was also now covered in oil. 

“Yes, yes,” Echo snapped after a few more minutes of that, swatting his fingers away and getting up on his knees, face pink. Dorian blinked, perplexed; until Echo’s well-placed shove sent him tumbling back down onto the bed, straddling Dorian’s hips and lining himself up quickly. 

“Ah.” Dorian shuddered. “Not making me do all the work after all, then.”

Echo sank down on his cock with a ragged gasp, head falling back as he steadied himself, palms flat against Dorian’s chest. He could feel Dorian’s heartbeat, thunderous and comforting, constant, and twisted his hips ‘til Dorian was completely buried inside of him, Echo choking out a curse and Dorian gripping his hips so hard they’d surely bruise. Thinking of that, of Dorian’s handprints left as evidence of this on his skin, made him moan low in his throat, beginning to move. Dorian moved with him, saying things Echo did not understand, beautiful words from a beautiful, terrible place far from here. Echo himself could not speak, and his sounds were soft and desperate, torn from him by the union of their bodies and the building heat inside of him.

“Echo,” Dorian murmured, cupping his face. Echo looked down at him, panting and shivering although his skin was soaked in sweat. He dug his blunt nails into Dorian’s skin, leaving ivory half-moons, arching his back and moaning aloud at the crest of pleasure when Dorian thrust up, again and again. “Incredible,” Dorian gasped.

“You’re incredible.” Ridiculously, Echo laughed, his eyes watering and his muscles aching as he writhed, Dorian’s hand and his own joined on his cock, making him see stars. “Come, amatus,” Dorian urged, “for me.”

Echo’s ‘yes’ came out as a whimper and then he let go, tensing and trembling and perhaps even letting Dorian’s name slip somewhere in the middle. Vaguely, he felt Dorian reversing their positions, his head falling gratefully against the pillows. Dorian covered Echo’s body completely, kissing him through it, still seeking his own release. Echo stretched and lifted his legs, nodding at Dorian who exhaled and pressed in again, although this time there was no mistaking the mage’s strength. Echo moved back to meet him languidly, each thrust verging on too much as he was most definitely spent. But then…

Echo yelped at the sudden surge of energy from Dorian’s fingers against his thigh, and the mage’s grin just widened. “What –” Electricity danced between them, sending unexpected prickles of pleasure through him, enough to make Echo moan and squirm just before Dorian nuzzled happily against his neck and came with a loud groan and a rush of warmth. They stayed in a messy heap for a few moments before Dorian heaved a great sigh and untangled them, leaning over and ruffling Echo’s already hopelessly fluffy hair. Echo shot him a look. “You _electrocuted me_.”

“You loved it,” Dorian retorted, clearly very pleased with himself. Echo couldn’t really argue, though. He wasn’t particularly in an arguing mood, and he yawned as he cleaned himself off half-heartedly with a corner of the sheets. Dorian looked scandalized. Echo yawned again. Dorian seemed a bit…on edge. It was strange.

“I…like your quarters,” he said quietly into the afterglow.

Echo cracked an eye open. “Mm. I like _your_ quarters, too.” He made an attempt at wiggling his eyebrows and Dorian barked out a decidedly nervous laugh. “What?”

“Not that I couldn’t suggest some changes,” Dorian added. “Your taste is a little…austere.”

“And your pillow talk is awful,” Echo said mildly.

Dorian winced. “I’m afraid I haven’t had much practice with it.”

“How so?”

Dorian glanced at him. “Usually they don’t stay,” he muttered. “After.” His tone was bitter.

“Ah. Yet here we are. Staying.” He said it casually, but his heart was beating fast again, hopeful and terrified.

“Yes,” Dorian said. “We are. Do you…want me to go?”

“No!” Echo cleared his throat. “No. I...you don’t have to go. If you don’t want to. Because, I mean, if you want to, then by all means –”

Dorian shut him up with a kiss. It was very effective. “I think I’d like to stay right here, if it’s all the same to you.”

Echo smiled, and it was exhausted as it always was these days, but there was something new and bright blossoming in his chest when he looked at Dorian, and when they kissed, it was an uncertain promise that Echo clung to without quite knowing what it meant.

“About what I said,” Echo murmured afterwards, “I lied, you know.”

“You said a lot of things,” Dorian chuckled, “I think you’ll have to be a tad more specific.”

“When I said you weren’t that special.” Echo glanced at him, and Dorian sucked in a breath. “You are. Special to me, that is. The world might be ending, and…and I’m not going to spend the precious little time we have left with just anyone.”

“Well,” Dorian replied after a pause, “I could say the same about you. But I’m probably about to pass out, truthfully.”

Echo smiled at him in sleepy agreement before his shoulders slumped and he muttered, “Sera’s going to throw a party when she finds out.”

“Don’t forget about Varric trying to write a novel about us.” Dorian smirked. Echo glared. Dorian would probably help the dwarf write it, honestly.

Yes, there were problems. And it was still a bad idea.

But when Dorian’s eyes caught his in the dying sunlight, he couldn’t look away.


End file.
